Firebrand

Chapter 585: Old Plays in New Bottles

Chapter 585: Old Plays in New Bottles

Old Plays in New Bottles

Martel took it easy for most of the next day, but when evening approached, he and Eleanor crossed the city to reach the market district, following the same route Martel had taken the day before, going to the same destination. At this hour, The Golden Goose bustled with life and light, and the two mages swiftly made their way inside.

"There they are!" Maximilian greeted them loudly, cutting through some of the noise. By the look of his red cheeks, he was already a few cups ahead of them. They joined him and made their way to three seats kept reserved in front of the stage; it paid to have friends among the performers.

Idle talk continued for a little while, mostly about the same topics as explored on the night of the solstice celebration, until the actors emerged on the stage. The storyteller stepped forward, beckoning for silence in the room. "Friends, I bid you welcome to the tale of the Firebrand!"

Martel began to sink down into his seat.

***

Martel found himself perplexed as the play unfolded. Based on the title and his conversation yesterday with Regnar, he had initially assumed this was somehow related to his duel at the solstice feast. But the story on the stage had nothing to do with any of that or him. It told the tale of a wizard going through various adventures, fantastical in nature and far removed from Morcaster. But why the title? Clearly this was not a brand-new play the acting troupe could hardly have put this together with a day's notice. Yet neither could the title be coincidence.

It finally dawned on Martel that this was probably an old play they had simply repurposed, giving it a new title and adjusting a few lines. Ever the opportunists, they had taken advantage of the city being fascinated by gossip to attract an audience.

Having solved the mystery, Martel was able to actually focus on the story and enjoy it. The tale was unfamiliar to him, whether in this new version or however it had been previously. But the performance was great as always, and Regnar's magical effects work perfectly to create a spectacle. Mostly wind and weather, with rumblings of thunder or a flash of lightning appearing to frighten those in the front rows.

His magical senses far more honed, Martel could anticipate every spell as it was being cast; what effect it carried, where on the stage it would appear, and so on. At the same time, he could not necessarily recreate them himself. There seemed to be a bit of hedge trickery involved; magic that was not taught at the Lyceum.

As the play ended, the audience cheered loudly, Martel among them. Eleanor gave him an elbow. "Someone is famous now."

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"I think we both know whatever just happened on that stage has no connection to reality. Still, it was a good show."

They fetched themselves another round, and eventually, the acting troupe joined them. Music was played with dancing and merriment to follow, reminding Martel of his most joyous times spent in Morcaster. No intrigues or ulterior motives, no veiled insults or disguised contempt, nor complex rules of etiquette and social standing. Just the company and companionship of friends.

"It's good to see you laugh," Regnar said to Martel as they sat on a bench, surrounded by revelry. "I heard about those who come back from serving with the Tenth."

"Yeah." Uncomfortable thoughts came to Martel, but surrounded by light and laughter, they did not take root.

"You had any trouble? In the copper lanes."

"No. It doesn't look like anybody cares about my presence, which is how I prefer it."

Regnar shrugged. "Battlemages have a fearsome reputation, those fire-touched more so. And you live up to it, lad."

"Pretty sure that reputation is your doing, given your whole performance tonight," Martel retorted.

The hedge mage scoffed. "That was just a bit of theatre. Exaggerated storytelling. You can't see yourself, lad, the way you enter a room, and your eyes watch everyone. You got a hard face for someone so young."

"Well, I'd exchange it for another, if they'd let me."

Regnar laughed half-heartedly. "Well, in lieu of that, look for the things that might soften up those features a little."

"I'll keep an eye out." Martel was only paying attention with one ear, as he had been glancing around at the crowd; realising he was doing exactly what Regnar had just said, he got irritated with himself and stopped.

Silence between them followed for a moment. The hedge mage looked at Eleanor and Maximilian dancing. "Old men sit on benches. You should be up with them."

Martel looked at his friends. "I don't want to get in the way."

"Lad, if not now, when? We had this talk once before, as I recall. But I don't mind giving you another opportunity. Theodore!" Regnar cupped his mouth with his hands to address the lute-playing storyteller across the noisy room. "Can you play 'The Maid in the Meadow' for me?"

The minstrel acquiesced, and a new tune began to play. Martel felt a push in his back, and while he could have resisted, he allowed the momentum to send him towards the middle of the room, where Eleanor grabbed him and whirled him around.

***

The moon shone on near deserted streets as the battlemage and his protector began their walk home. This was the most fun Martel had experienced all year, making him forget his troubles. At the same time, he felt spent, having spoken to so many people over the last several days. He looked forward to one or two quiet days; his lodgings at the home of House Fontaine were big enough to easily accommodate this.

A shadow emerged from an alley to Martel's right. Summoning his shield, Martel's next thought was to fling a fire bolt at his attacker. Before he could do this, Eleanor grabbed him by the wrist and held him back.

The shape entered the streetlight, showing him to be an ordinary day labourer, making his way home on staggered steps. He stared at Martel with the eyes of a drunkard as he stumbled past them, unaware of what Martel had nearly done.

"You are fine," Eleanor spoke to him in a soothing voice. "We are in Morcaster. You are fine."

Martel dismissed his magic and took a deep breath. "I'm fine," he told himself. They continued onwards.